The Challenge: The Companion Challenge A Sequel
by The Love of Our Lust
Summary: Kyle goes to Sigmund, drunk, demanding to be 'released'… and released he is. MATURE. One-Shot. SigKyle. Smut.


**A/N:** Hello, this is Dead Wang Toys from **The Love of our Lust**. I wrote this one for Pleasnt Prodding Spike (yes, again). It's the sequel to "The Challenge: Sex". You don't have to read it first, but it would be helpful. All you need to know is that Kyle has to ask Sigmund for permission to climax/cum/release/etc.

This sequel has been approved by Inspirational Grape Juice.

**WARNING:** There is graphic sex. Dirty sex. Sexy sex. Lots of stuff involving and revolving around sex… between two people of the male gender. HOMOS. Don't like? THEN DO NOT READ. Oh yeah, and a bit of underage drinking too.****

**DISCLAIMER: **Despite that fact I love the characters, and am proficient at writing them… I actually do not lay claim to their ownership. Sad, huh?

**SUMMARY:** Kyle goes to Sigmund, drunk, demanding to be 'released'… and released he is.**  
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The Challenge: The Companion Challenge (A Sequel)

It starts with a sigh late in the night. Followed by the sound of rustling fabric. Then the air grows warm, and static buzzes with an unvoiced need. A hand, large and skillful, travels over perspiring skin. It marks a path down… down… down…

And Kyle gasps, lips swollen and glinting wetly in the candlelight. Sigmund is being coy, brushing lightly down the whole length. The fingertips linger, lazy and not willing to do more than tease. It is not fair that he could toy and play with the wizard like this—but Kyle is in no position to challenge him. He needs this, more than he cares to admit, more than he is willing to suffer through. So, he gives in.

Delighted, the silver haired sorcerer takes his time. Feeling carefully, he memorizes the way the pliant flesh under him quivers. Stores the sounds in his mind like a record. There is a Cheshire smile on his face as he leans down, breathing against the sensitized ear, "I want you to ride me…"

Shifting, rolling across the spider-silk, Kyle is resting atop Sigmund, legs spread open and back curving wantonly. His hips lift, gently cresting like an ocean wave, and the other hisses in pleasure. It has been hours by now, and Kyle can only go so much longer, straining against the thickness that is Sigmund buried inside him. The pressure in him is growing faster, and he rides along side it, voice wavering, "P-Please… I-I—!"

Sigmund raises, hand gripping the strands of fire colored hair at the base of an elegant neck. "N-Not yet… I'm close…" He wants to drag it out. Wants Kyle to sob and weep for his release. Kyle hasn't quite reached that point yet. It's not fair, but then, the sorcerer refused to play by the rules whenever it involved the redhead. So, with sharper, ruthless moves, Kyle continues his assault on Sigmund.

He grits his teeth, tilting Kyle's head back and exposing the pale neck. He nuzzles into the junction that meets shoulder. His tongue runs messily up toward the pulse point… and he bites firmly. Kyle bucks without a measured consent, and something like curses fall from his mouth. Sigmund is proud, his hand rubbing at the member flattened between their stomachs. His red eyes are watching Kyle's flushed face as he tries to keep it together.

He fails.

"I—Sigmund, please!" he finally manages to ask, voice a cry in shadowy room.

Letting out puffs of heat breath across Kyle lips, he whispers, "Yes."

The spell allows him to be flung off the precipice, and his vision is nothing but bright white stars in a surreal explosion of pleasure. His muscles tighten, convulse in tiny shudders of exquisite satisfaction. All tension falls away and he slackens in Sigmund's hold. He is sticky, inside and out, marked and too exhausted to care.

Kyle's amber eyes are fluttering. Blissful, he is sent off to a sleepless nothingness.

Until he opens his eyes and finds himself, alone, in his own bed. His lower body aches, and his organ is hard as a rock. With an ear-shattering scream, he curses the very name of a silver haired sorcerer. Said sorcerer is chuckling almost evilly from behind his crystal ball, scarlet eyes glowing naughtily…

Ever since that first rather passionate encounter, Kyle had been somewhere caught between upset and slightly eager. It wasn't until later that he realized that Sigmund had left his sexual spell still operating. The poor wizard was not allowed to be brought to orgasm unless Sigmund gave the okay. Of course, Kyle was suspect to the plausible belief that the silver haired jerk did it on purpose. So, for a few months, he toughed it out. Simply refused to have any sort of sex-related activities.

Well, one particularly bad day, he caved. Found Sigmund and demanded to be released. Sigmund took that to mean he could push Kyle against the sturdiest wall in the near vicinity and have him.

Kyle was a puddle of goo by the end, unable to think, much less ask Sigmund to lift the spell (which was really more of a curse if one thought about it for too long). The sorcerer was genial enough, however, to send Kyle back home with a kiss on the hand (he wasn't a lady, so he totally did _not_ have butterflies about the tender press of a moist mouth on his heating skin).

By the time he had been poof'd back to his apartment, he found out the spell was still in place. After a cold shower, he decided to speak with his tormenter at a later date. He couldn't handle a third bout just yet.

He did well for about three more months. Then, Kyle reached his breaking point when he had a very vivid dream. Who showed up afterward? That's right, Sigmund. Smug and with more tricks up his sleeve, he had Kyle again, slow and sensual. The redhead would have been angry if he wasn't so desperate.

Of course, when they finished, Sigmund stayed, taunting Kyle briefly. He teleported back before Kyle was in a relatively put together position where he could ask about the spell (curse, hex, enchantment, whatever).

Next he tried correspondents. Messages. Phone calls. Anything! Sigmund cleverly avoided them all.

So, Kyle tried to reverse the spell without that bastard's help. The results were a bit more than disastrous, but less than catastrophic (not by much though)… Sigmund was the only one who could release him.

Not that Sigmund aided him in the quest for independence. Kyle was also about 99.99 percent sure that the dreams of glorious and heated bouts of sex were all the silver sorcerer's doing. He took some perverse enjoyment in Kyle's mental distress. The reasons why weren't important so much as the means to removing the damn spell.

An hour cold shower later from this latest wet dream, Kyle was dressed for the day, heading to his classes. Along the way, the purple clad figure of the youth Kyle reluctantly called friend tackled him from behind.

"Oomph!"

"Why, Kyle ol' pal! Where ya headin' on such a lovely day?" Fanboy asked. Growling, Kyle pushed the long limbs off him.

"To class. Where you should be going!" he snapped. Fanboy sat back, hands up in a gesture to show he had no weapons (other than stupidity).

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" he said, backing off. "I'm just asking 'cause it's a holiday."

"Holiday?" Kyle echoed, feeling deflated suddenly.

"Yeah!"

"What holiday?"

"Uh, Superhero Awareness Day? _Duuuh_!" Fanboy answered. Kyle understood how Lenny could suffer from chronic stress eye twitches. "Who could forget it?"

"Hmm. Yes, who?" he responded dryly. Fanboy beamed, slapping Kyle on the back soundly. Just then, he noticed the lack of a chummy companion normally hovering beside the purple lad. "Oh? Your sidekick isn't with you today?"

"Ah, no…" he sighed sadly. Kyle's brow came up curiously.

"Why ever not?" he inquired, standing slowly. Fanboy remained on the ground, twirling his pointer finger along the concrete sidewalk.

"He wouldn't tell me…" he sniffled. Then quickly sprang to his feet. Kyle stepped back at the bipolar action, fearfully hiding behind his hands. It was too late as Fanboy slung an arm around him and squeezed Kyle into his side. "But that's cool because I saw you across the street! Now we can hang out and wait for My Chum Chum!"

"Oh, I'd rather not," Kyle tried, but Fanboy dragged him off the path to do whatever it is one does on Superhero Awareness Day.

Apparently, not much, as Fanboy sat around a comic shop most of the day, pining over his absent partner. It was getting pathetic until the end where the comic owner pointed out that the poor kid could be lost. Fanboy panicked, racing around the store. Despite Kyle's tries at keeping the purple ninny calm, Oz continued on a more diabolical tangent of kidnappings, torment, or foul play.

The result was Fanboy had to be tied to a chair with magical rope, and the larger idiot had to have his mouth taped shut. Of course, Chum Chum returned. He returned with gifts no less (for everybody). Kyle was touched, opening his present carefully and methodically.

"I thought everybody could use something for SHAD!" he chirped.

Fanboy had a new cloak, Oz had a rare collectible, and Kyle now owned a supreme historical item of magic. It was a talisman he had only ever read about. He didn't believe the legends until then. It was suppose to shatter any bad spells sent from enemies. Only when worn, though.

"How did you even get this?" Kyle exclaimed. Chum Chum shrugged.

"Oh, you know…" he hedged. Kyle hugged his present, and then Chum Chum, who giggled happily.

"Best Superhero Awareness Day, _ever_!" Fanboy declared. From there Oz broke out some sort of bubbly bottle and poured everyone a tall glass.

Kyle had several by evening. Tipsy, he hung off his pals, sloshing liquid about. "And then he said—get this—he said…" Vaguely aware he was talking about Sigmund, Kyle's rant died as he went to take a sip of his Chardonnay. "Hey, my glass is empty…" he noted.

Fanboy crowed in laughter, "_'Hey, my glass is empty!_' Ohhh! That's a good one!"

"He did _not_!" Chum Chum gasped. Kyle blinked, looking down at the smaller male.

"You're right, he didn't," he agreed. There was silence. Then everybody in the room burst into fits of hysterics. After continuous moments of rolling on the floor, they tittered, relaxing on their back. The icy floor almost sobered Kyle's giddy mood. "No… but anyways… So Sigmund—"

"'Mere, ChumChum," Fanboy interrupted, slurring a tiny bit. He scooted across the cool floor, arms outstretched to Chum Chum's chocolate colored head. "Earmuffs…!"

Chum Chum wormed closer to Fanboy, letting himself nuzzle into Fanboy's long fingers that sifted through fluffy hair. Kyle waited, impatient. Finally, after the purple wannabe hero cooed his sidekick into a sleepy, faraway state, he nodded to Kyle.

"Anyway, the silver haired asshole that is my constant enemy—my unyielding tormenter! He still sends me these dreams—"

"Uh-huh…"

"In the last one, he made me ri—"

"Uh-huh…"

"Are you even listening?"

"Uh-huh…"

"Oh no you're not! Y-Your too busy with your little buddy!"

"Uh-huh…"

"Here I am, pouring out my heart and soul, and you're still focused on—"

"Why don't you tell him how you feel?" Fanboy curiously asked. Kyle halted, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. The redhead sputtered, mind blown in its hazy state. "If you want, me and Chum will go with you. You know, for emotional support."

"I… I… I…" he tried, and then weakly, he sat up on his heels. "Okay."

That is how, at nearly midnight, Kyle ended up pounding on the huge, scary wood and iron doors that was Sigmund's enchanted castle home. Fanboy cheering behind him, and Chum Chum floating beside the other, adorned with pink kitten earmuffs.

"Woo! You tell him, Kyle!" the little sidekick shouted.

"He hasn't opened the door yet," Fanboy said, tapping an orange shoulder. Chum Chum turned to him, adorably lost.

"What? I can't hear you, Fanboy! Earmuffs!" he hollered, pointing to horrendous kitten shaped things covering his ears. Fanboy chuckled, patting his companion on the head.

Sigmund's door creaked open invitingly, but the sorcerer was nowhere to be seen. Kyle blinked into the velvety darkness, paved with floating gold candelabras. The light shone in flickering orbs of bullion light, illuminating the way to a double spiraling staircase in a harlequinade foyer. With a sigh, Kyle entered, not bothering to stare at the surrounding marble statuary and gargoyle overhangings.

"Oooh, atmospheric!" Fanboy commented somewhere behind Kyle.

"Don't touch anything, I'll be right back," he called over his shoulder as he reached the stairs.

"Huh, what did he say?"

"I think he said, 'Don't touch anything.'"

"'Touch everything?' Okay!"

"Ah! Chum Chum! Careful! Don't—Ohhh, what's _that_?"

Kyle didn't bother with them. Whatever might happen would be their fault, and truthfully, after all the hardship Sigmund put him through, what was a few broken windows and damaged artwork? The redhead kept climbing, not really knowing where he was going, but sure as the setting sun, his feet led him up the steps and down the ever-expanding hallway until he came to a door. It was plain, simplistic. Dark cherry wood with a curved gold handle.

It shouldn't be Sigmund's room. It wasn't dazzling enough… yet, Kyle grabbed the handle, and with a force, opened the door. Just like his too real dreams. There was Sigmund, sprawled on a bed much too big for him alone to sleep in. The absurdly built torso was uncovered, lower body only presentable by the black as night spider silk coverlet. Single, blood red candles were dancing about in the dim room. His eyes were practically smoldering, glowing softly.

"Hello, Kyle…" he all but purred. Kyle shivered at his deep, penetrating voice.

"You need to remove your spell," Kyle declared, holding his head high, arrogant. "_Now_."

"My spell?" he asked innocently. He legs fell open almost obscenely. The dark covers shifted, pulled taunt, loosened, and then pooled lower. His navel and a silver trail of hair leading farther down below were revealed, enticing Kyle to glance down.

"Yes, the one where I have to ask you to—" Kyle faltered momentarily; he had to look away from the sorcerer.

"To what… _Kyle_?" his name came off those lush lips too excitedly. Sigmund shifted again, his legs falling to the floor, and he sat perch on the edge of the bed, waiting. "You have to ask me what?"

"I have to ask you to cum, alright?" Kyle spat out, turning a glare to the other man. Smirking, Sigmund rose, the sheet slipping like water from his naked frame. Instantly, Kyle was frozen, face blossoming red. "W-What are you—"

Sigmund started walking forward, like a beast stalking it's helpless prey. Foolishly, in embarrassment, Kyle covered his eyes with his hands. Sigmund's naked body was imposing, and when he moved, it was like a perfectly executed form. He was flawless, graceful as a panther, and so much more powerful than Kyle. But it was the way Sigmund never let his eyes wander away from Kyle's. He was intent.

What he was so intense about, Kyle couldn't fathom, and it was unnerving to have such eye contact with the silver haired male for even a second longer than he had to. "Just hurry up and do what you have to! I won't bother you any longer!" he swore.

"Are you intoxicated, Kyle?" a voice hummed beside his ear. Kyle squeaked, backing up. Somehow he came into contact with a closed door. "I can smell it. It's like a perfume… So warm! So… _bittersweet_."

"Dammit! Just release me!" he demanded. A hot tongue wetly sucked the lobe into an even hotter mouth. Kyle shivered, pushing his palms against the chiseled chest in front of him. His knees knocked together and he wondered how it was possible to already be in such a situation.

"I will release you…" Sigmund murmured against a pale neck. His large hand slid under Kyle's shirt with a sinful promise. "But, I'd feel bad taking advantage of an inebriated wizard…"

"No, I meant—!" Kyle let out a moan as deft fingers rubbed against a hardening nipple. Kyle pushed his chest into the touch without realizing he did so. "M-More…"

Sigmund's scarlet eyes slid open, peering at the redhead slyly. "Eager?"

"I—No, that's not what I—" Kyle let out a delicious cry that had Sigmund closing the slight distance between them. His leg was pressing against Kyle growing manhood, the heat between them skyrocketing. His fingers were still circling Kyle's pert nipple, lightly tweaking it, simply to hear the whimpers the redhead tried to swallow. The blood was rushing south, and soon, Kyle was growing tipsy. "No…! I can't stand—"

Swiftly, Kyle found Sigmund lifting him up. Strong hands came under his thighs, and clasped his buttocks, the muscles showing proudly in his shoulders and biceps. Awed, Kyle just stared transfixed at the taunt blemish free skin. "Wrap your legs around me," the sorcerer commanded.

Kyle found himself doing just that. His thin legs came up, resting on the V cut of Sigmund lower back. He was then taken to the bed, laid down on his back with a cautiousness that Kyle never noticed before. That was simply the way Sigmund handled him in these circumstances. Funny that it took a drunken mind to observe that.

"Release me," Kyle said, tone hushed. Sigmund opened his mouth, a cocky sentiment sure to follow, but Kyle brought his fingers up shakily. His thumb skimmed a bottom lip the color of unripe cherries. The feel was softer than satin. "No… I mean… _Release_ me, Sigmund. Please?"

His red eyes turned wide, unbelieving. Kyle tenderly brought Sigmund's handsome visage closer, and he tipped his head up, mouth pressing softly against the strong jawline.

Feverishly, Sigmund turned, and caught Kyle's lips in his own. Like a dying man, he latched on, mouth probing, as if drawing sustenance from the wizard below him. He was tugging off the striped sweater, unveiling the slim body with hurriedness, as if terrified Kyle would take back his words. Did Sigmund think _Kyle_ was the true master of torture? What was this thing between them really? A game? Or something… deeper?

Sigmund wasn't calculated; he wasn't taking his time. His lips meshed with Kyle's in frenzied, anxious moves. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought absently, _Soon I won't know where I begin and he ends…_Beneath Kyle's fingers were muscles hidden behind layers of moonstone skin. Another hand was guiding his to the weeping cock pushed into his thigh. Kyle's palm was damp, and sloppily, he was milking the man above him, listening for sounds he was doing well.

Shaking hands were unbuttoning his jeans, ripping them away, and pausing to take in an anticipatory breath. Words in another language flew off his knowledgeable tongue. He was rambling, shutting his eyes, and Kyle's hand was too good at what it must have been doing. After that, Kyle's wrists were pinned next to his head.

"What do you want from me?" Sigmund questioned, eyes dark. The redhead was looking back; his eyes glazed in need, in alcohol, and in something else, something he never quite felt before. Powerful. In this moment, he wasn't the desperate one—it was Sigmund. Sigmund would do whatever Kyle wanted…

"Fill me…" Kyle whispered, his lids heavy. "I want you inside me. I want you slow… Touch me."

Obediently, Sigmund nodded. It took every single ounce of his restraint, but he went slowly. He eased into Kyle's entrance; already use to such intrusions, letting him be surrounded by the tight, ungodly heat. The friction was nearly unbearable. The redhead was moaning, tossing his head from side to side. When Sigmund was fully sheathed, he shuddered, gasping at the sensations. Yet, dutifully, he let his hands wander about the slim body under him. The smooth skin, soft and trembling, had small beads of sweat forming.

Then, with an attentiveness that amazed Kyle, Sigmund slowly pulled back, and then thrust in. Kyle arched, breathy sounds leaving him. Shallowly, in careful bursts, the silver haired sorcerer did as instructed. Both were panting, letting the pleasure mount. Somehow, Kyle was meeting the thrusts, his pelvis rocking against Sigmund. That was when they shifted, and that bundle of nerves inside him was struck. Kyle cried out, clutching to a supportive back.

"A-Again…!" he begged. Sigmund pulled Kyle closer, lifting a leg to place over his shoulder. He redoubled his speed, driving further into the wizard. Whimpering and digging his digits into the luscious strands of silver, Kyle closed his eyes. Sigmund, however, was mesmerized, watching the other man's face. Bitten lips and upturned brows. Cheeks pink and hair strewn in a flyaway mess. Then, those amber eyes opened, pleading.

"Yes…" he answered the question left hanging in the air. Kyle's head flew back, and his body lifted in a perfect half circle, naked chest brushing against naked chest. Sigmund wrapped his arms around the redhead, groaning, and releasing into the spasming body beneath him. Sated and fatigued, both collapsed. Sigmund never let go, and Kyle curled into him. Both were lost to a deep slumber immediately…

When Kyle woke the next morning, his half-lidded eyes were greeted with Sigmund, propped up by his elbow, staring at him with a very large grin. Blinking away sleep, Kyle rolled to the other side of the bed, massaging his forehead. It felt like a series of circus performers were swinging and banging inside his skull. "Last night doesn't count…" he grumbled, telling himself he was _never drinking again_.

"Which part?" Sigmund questioned. He sat up and stretched, Kyle was peeking from under his hand, and couldn't help thinking that the sorcerer was awfully swollen with pride.

"None of last night happened," Kyle said. "Now will you hurry up and remove the spell?"

"Hmmm, let me think…" Sigmund was tapping his chin, leafing through the discarded clothes about them. He picked up the jeans Kyle had worn the previous night. "No."

Kyle let out a pathetic whine. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Here," Sigmund said and held out his hand. Dangling from his fingers was the talisman that was Chum Chum's present. "I won't revoke my spell," he said, to which Kyle scowled, but Sigmund continued with a somber expression plastered on his fine features, "Although if you wear this, you do not need my permission to release yourself."

"What? Are you serious?" he asked. The silver head nodded briskly. With a sigh, Kyle took the talisman. He rolled it over in his fingers a few times before tipping his head and putting it on. Sigmund looked broken as he watched the redhead fiddling with the pretty talisman. Then a wicked smile appeared. "So, Sigmund the Sorcerer, let's see if this antique actually works."

The embarrassment of straddling his enemy was worth the floored look on said enemy's normally smug face…


End file.
